


Draw me like one of your french guys

by iwritetrash



Series: Stormpilot One Shots [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Artist!Finn, Drabble, Finnpoe - Freeform, M/M, Modern AU, Poe finds Finn's sketchbook, Stormpilot, build-up, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetrash/pseuds/iwritetrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn looses his sketchbook and returns to find it in the arms of the man he was secretly sketching earlier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draw me like one of your french guys

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - Just a quick drabble, I’m currently working on a longer piece, potentially even multi-chapter, but I thought I’d throw something onto my blog for people to read. I literally wrote this in an hour and it’s unedited, but hey, enjoy :)

“No, no, no, no, no!” Finn whisper-yelled as he rifled through his bag for his sketchbook but instead retrieved a handful of pencils, paintbrushes, paints, fine liners, watercolours and everything except his sketchbook. “Shit.” Finn groaned, giving up the search, knowing that there was no chance in hell that his sketchbook could possibly be hidden somewhere in his single-compartment bag that only contained other small items.

“Finn, are you okay?” Rey asked, walking into the small kitchen of the apartment they shared, presumably in search of either caffeine or sugar, observing the anxious frown on his forehead.

“No, I’m not okay, I lost my sketchbook.” He groaned. “All of my work was in there, every last bit, and now it’s gone.” He sighed defeatedly. Okay, so he was being a tad melodramatic, but that sketchbook was still important

“Maybe you left it somewhere, have you tried retracing your steps?” She asked, retrieving a cookie from the cookie jar and taking a bite as she glanced at him, knowing that he hadn’t even thought about it yet.

“No, but I was totally about to.” He replied, and she laughed.

“I’m sure you were. Good luck finding your sketchbook. I’d help but I have a quiz to revise for.” She sighed dramatically. “If only a handsome princess could come along and save me from the horror of Professor Solo’s pop quizzes.” She brought a hand up to her forehead, pretending to swoon before waltzing back to her room, leaving Finn laughing quietly in the kitchen.

***

The café. It had to be in the café. He had sat there for most of the afternoon with his sketchbook out drawing inspiration from his surroundings, in particular the man sat on the table in front of him facing his way as he worked studiously on his laptop. He had even added gentle shadings of colour to the man’s features, sparingly but not stingily, just enough colour to gently accent the sketches.

Finn hurried down the street to the café where he’d been only 20 minutes earlier, hoping against hope that his sketchbook would still be there. Maybe someone had handed it to the staff, or maybe it was still on the table. At this point though, all he could do was hope someone hadn’t walked off with it.

As he approached the coffee shop, he looked through the window, and was relieved to see his sketchbook still lying on the table. The slightly more disconcerting fact was the man sat at the table he’d previously occupied, flipping through the pages of the sketchbook, his eyes scanning over the drawings, none other than the man he had sketched earlier.

Finn watched as the man turned to the pages he’d covered with rough doodles and more detailed sketches of the man’s face, complete with dark eyes and darker hair, beautifully matching his golden skin. The sketches detailed the strong line of his face and the determined set of his jaw as he worked, highlighting his angled cheekbones and light shade of stubble across his chin, with each line drawn with a careful precision once he had stopped doodling and started to seriously sketch the man’s appearance. His mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ and Finn saw this as his cue to enter the coffee shop and lay claim to the sketchbook.

As he stepped inside, the man hardly looked up, though Finn wouldn’t expect him to, too engrossed in the pages of the sketchbook. He didn’t notice Finn, in fact, until he was stood just a few inches away from the table. He glanced up to see Finn and some kind of recognition dawned on him.

“This is yours.” He stated, gesturing to the sketchbook with a mildly awed expression.

“Uh, yeah, it is.” Finn nodded sheepishly, wondering if he would question him as to exactly why he was drawing him.

“These are really good.” He replied, instead of the demands for an explanation that Finn had expected. “I’m Poe, by the way.” He smiled and Finn nodded, returning his steady grin.

“I’m Finn.” He took a seat opposite him at the table.

“These are drawings of me.” Poe glanced back down at the sketchbook, then back up at Finn. Finn blushed, nodding.

“I was looking for inspiration, and you were just across from me.” Finn offered as some kind of explanation.

“You don’t need to explain, these are just... wow.” Poe smiled, awestruck.

“Thank you, I’m glad you like them.” Finn blushed, smiling widely.

“Seriously, not to seem nosy, but I looked through your sketchbook, you’re really good. I’d love to see some more of your work.” Poe smiled.

“I have a few bigger pieces at home if you’d like to see them, but it’s not exactly like they’re displaying my work in museums.” Finn laughed, and Poe grinned before he replied.

“They should be, those museums are missing out.” Poe smiled. “I’d love to see some of your other pieces, just let me grab my stuff and we could head over?” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Finn smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Title insp. by the Titanic, idfk why I made this my title, but what's done is done.


End file.
